Transition
by shattered petal
Summary: Riza goes through a wirlwind of troubling emotions towards a certain Major General. -Olivier/Riza


**author's note**: This is a Riza/Olivier one-shot I wrote on another account, and decided to republish. Enjoy!

* * *

**Title**: Transition  
**Genres**: Angst/Romance  
**Rating**: T  
**Couple**: Olivier/Riza

* * *

'Sir?'

Roy shook his head rapidly. A smirk pulled at his face, 'Sorry. I'm, uh, not very keen on interviews. Jeez, have you seen the amount of cameras waiting for us out there, Lieutenant?' He swallowed and swivelled on his heel to face her. The ward was quiet and somewhat lonely, only occupying the two officers. Roy exhaled, 'It's not even been twenty-four hours yet!'

'It's okay, sir,' Hawkeye attempted to reassure him, taking a glance out of the hospital window. She pulled a face. Roy was right; the amount of people out there was incredible and it didn't even look as if a bullet to the head would force them to flee. She heard her superior officer sigh again, 'Our stories must be anxiously waited for. No doubt Edward has been herded by these newspaper gossips.'

Roy shrugged. Edward and Alphonse would probably be able to handle the crowd. After all, Fullmetal loved attention. However Mustang wasn't so sure if he wanted to step out there and reveal all just now. He was still healing from the wounds he had received less than twenty-four hours ago. The majority of these wounds more emotional than physical.

His loss of sight had been restored, thanks to the Philosopher's Stone. Jean Havoc was now up on his feet and more than enthusiastic to start working at the military again. Roy wasn't so sure if he wanted to return to the office in less than a week. Having a few days off would be nice. However he had already begun work on replenishing the corrupted and beaten Ishvala, and Roy wasn't the sort of man to just throw something so important away.

His First-Lietenant had fully recovered a while ago, but Mustang insisted she should still stay and rest (with him). There was no rush now, and everything should be handled smoothly and slowly. Roy had had enough of dashing around and having a limited amount of time.

'I should go, sir.'

Roy's heart dropped. His eyes widened, 'Not yet. You still need to recover.'

She found it difficult to argue back at him. In all honesty, Mustang was the one in the right here. It was true that her health was still to be weary about, but she felt completely fine. Anyway something itched in her head that Roy needed a break from her. Ever since the incident of when Führer Bradley had transferred her to be his personal assistant, Mustang had been pressured severely, continuously worried about her. He had lost too much weight and black, dark rings shadowed his eyes. She frowned; he needed a holiday.

'For your own benefit, Colonel,' was her reply. To her surprise, Roy didn't debate any further. He watched as she grabbed her coat and slipped it on. Their eyes met and his eyebrow raised, 'Call me when you're released, sir.'

'It shouldn't be long,' he said, 'Good luck with what waits for you out there.'

What waited for her out there was worse than she had imagined. Instead of questions about what had occurred to her during The Promised Day, she was fired questions about her relationship with Colonel Roy Mustang.

'Miss Hawkeye, is it true you and Mister Mustang are having an affair?' 'Are you and Colonel Mustang still sleeping together?' 'How long have you both been having this secret relationship for?' 'Would you tag both of you as "Friends with Benefits", Lieutenant?'

One microphone was shoved right into her face, and the amount of flashes from cameras was incredible. She gritted her teeth and attempted to barge through, but there were too many reporters. Riza found herself completely trapped, and there was no route out of the crowd. More and more questions were darted at her.

'Are you going to reveal your affair with Colonel Mustang?'

'We're not having a relationship. We're just colleagues.'

It was a silly mistake to answer. The whole situation was like a chain reaction. As soon as she answered that question, new ones appeared and some became incredibly insulting implying that she was some sort of whore. Since when did these newspapers become so engrossed with her relationship with Mister Mustang? Had someone implied something? Hawkeye noted to herself to find out who had mentioned anything. Right now though, she wasn't going anywhere. Hawkeye kept her lips tightly sealed, bowed her head and actually managed to push some reporters out of the way. However she wasn't lucky for very long.

'Will you show us your tattoo?'

Her eyes widened and she searched for who had asked her that question. So many mouths were moving and there were so many heads, she couldn't ever know. Hawkeye swallowed and politely said "excuse me" to someone who was in the way, but she still failed to barge through.

Then a strong, yet feminine hand grabbed hold of hers. Riza was about to yank her limb away, but recognised the white glove. It was military uniform. She couldn't see at all as she was dragged out of the herd, the questions becoming more rushed and less audible. Whoever was pulling her through must be used to these circumstances as he or she was easily barging their way through. Hawkeye attempted to see who it was, but could only glance past the waist.

She sighed in relief once they were free. It was like her lungs could breathe again. There was no more pressure, and the temperature decreased so pleasantly. She could hear the reporters from behind though and she was still being escorted, this time with less force.

They turned a corner. Riza peered around her shoulder and saw the cameras and microphones had disappeared. When she faced around again the person dragging her released her hand and continued onwards alone. It took Hawkeye a while to recognise who this person was: blonde hair that trailed down just above her waist, broad shoulders and a black overcoat.

'General?' she called, but didn't receive a response. Hawkeye appreciated the fact the Briggs commander wouldn't really be interested to hear what she had to say. She probably had other things to attend to. However Riza found herself catching up with her, 'General,' she tried again, and this time the slightly older female slowed for the Lieutenant to catch up. 'Thank you,' Riza said, 'Did you know I was there?'

'I happened to be passing,' Olivier said shortly, 'Where was your magnificent Colonel then?'

Riza replied, 'Still in hospital.'

They continued in silence for a while, and Hawkeye found herself feeling much more safer around this stern woman. Roy Mustang tended to give her this comforting atmosphere as well, but not like this. Whatever Olivier was possessing around her was much stronger, and even more comforting, which was peculiar, considering her rather cold reputation. She watched as the General shoved her hand into her pocket and revealed a small pocket watch. She returned it once reading the time.

'Are you headed somewhere, ma'am?' Hawkeye asked.

'Nowhere in particular, Lieutenant. I've done my business here and should be returning back to the North by tomorrow hopefully.'

Riza chewed on her lower lip, 'So soon?' She flinched slightly when Olivier's eyes met hers, and was surprised by what she saw. Instead of a cold glare she would usually pass, she actually found some form of curiosity.

'Did you want me to hang around, Lieutenant?'

Hawkeye thought she had made the General angry, and panicked a little. Then she read her tone again, and noticed there was actually a hint of amusement. Riza smiled a little and lowered her eyes to the ground, 'No, I. . .'

To her relief (and dismay), Olivier didn't push her.

Both women proceeded down a small alleyway, before reaching the middle of Central. A fountain flowed water from its tip nearby, pooling into the bowl beneath it. There were a few townspeople around, and, thank God, no reporters.

'You should go home, Lieutenant,' Olivier said, her tone now commanding.

Something inside Riza didn't want her to. She inhaled and something fluttered inside her. Hawkeye continued to follow her through Central and then started to wonder if she was irritating the General. She decided to ask.

'I wanted to walk around for a while. Is that all right, miss?'

Puzzlement washed over the General's face for a second, 'I'm not in charge of you, and I honestly don't care what you plan for the remainder of the day.'

That hurt a little. Then Hawkeye reassured herself what the General had stated was actually very normal. She squinted her eyes and faced the Briggs commander, who was facing forwards, eyes a little narrow. Her mind wanted to give her a challenge, and Hawkeye willingly accepted. She could tell that behind the cold "I don't care", there must have been some interest. Anyway, Olivier hadn't told her to "piss off" yet (not exactly in those words), so maybe the General didn't mind her.

'Were you injured?' Riza inquired, remembering Olivier's arm to have been placed into a sling. She no longer wore the bandage.

'It's nothing to fuss about. . . I heard about your incident,' she stopped. Riza paused in her steps and faced her. Their eyes met, and the young Lieutenant shivered a little. Over the years of knowing the General, she seemed to have missed how captivating those aqua eyes were. Hawkeye blinked, unsure why she was noticing these features. 'Is everything with you all right?'

Was she honestly that concerned?

'Yeah,' Riza replied lightly, 'I recovered quickly, thanks to Miss Mei in Xing. I'm sorry to hear about Captain Buccaneer.'

'He wouldn't want his death to be mourned over.' Her voice was like ice.

Olivier's eyes lowered down Riza's figure, and then to her eyes again. Hawkeye's mind fuzzed - what was she thinking about?

'I suppose you intend to stay as that bastard's adjutant then.'

'Yes,' Riza replied, secretly finding the name calling amusing. Roy had so many rivals, and she loved to watch the shows that enfolded between them. It was something she really admired about the Colonel (for some reason). He had this way of acting like he didn't give a damn with his arch rivals, especially this one. Although Hawkeye had to admit she ocassionly felt jealous whenever Roy and Olivier would bicker constantly with each other. Maybe she had been reading too many crappy romance novels, but wasn't it true that the couple who argued the most actually loved the other inside?

The strange this was, Hawkeye wasn't so sure who she was jealous of.

'Fair enough,' Olivier muttered, and proceeded her way. Riza was about to follow tail, but the General informed her to not follow anymore. Reluctantly, Hawkeye turned on her heel and proceeded home.

* * *

Hayate barked constantly, overjoyed his stern mother had returned. Hawkeye smiled, flattered to be welcomed so kindly. After a small petting, the Lieutenant stripped herself of her top and changed her trousers to her pyjama ones as they were less fitted and more comfortable. She exhaled slowly and proceeded out of the bedroom before making her way over to the kitchen. Once she had switched on the kettle, she paused.

Riza wasn't so sure what she was doing when she picked up the phone and dialled the hospital.

She requested she wanted to speak to Colonel Roy Mustang, and the phone was soon given to the patient. Roy asked her if she had gone through the crowd successfully, then realised his stupidity. Of course she had otherwise she wouldn't be ringing from home.

'General Armstrong had been passing, sir, and helped me.'

'Oh. . . Yeah, that's not very surprsing. She's still in Central?'

'Leaving tomorrow, sir.'

'Thank God for that.'

Hawkeye smiled to herself, and then inquired, 'Do you have the number to contact her?'

There was an agonising wait over the phone. She heard Roy clear his throat, 'Why on earth do you need it, Hawkeye?'

Riza chewed on her lip. He was right. Why did she need it? Hawkeye tried to think of a suitable, professional reason, but none sprouted to her head. If she was going to be completely honest, Riza simply wanted Olivier's number because she wanted to speak to her – unprofessionally. She rubbed her temple and exhaled. Hawkeye wasn't a "people person", and never had she been so determined to be in contact with someone.

'Because. . .' it was useless. She gritted her teeth, 'Sir, please can you give it to me?'

'. . . Okay,' there was strong reluctance in his tone, 'Lieutenant, is that possessed demon brainwashing you to join her lair? Urgh, she's been trying to get you as her personal adjutant since God knows when. Oh, and, by the way, the pay is not better there!'

'Sir, I have no intention to aid her,' Riza quickly stated. She felt flattered to hear what Roy had said. Olivier wanted her, personally, to work at Briggs? To receive an invitation like that was extraordinary, 'Anyway, I don't lie. I promised I'd follow you.'

'You're too kind, Hawkeye. I'll give you her number. Contact me if you get hassled or something, because I do have many words she would hate to hear.'

'Of course,' Riza smiled, 'And thank you.'

* * *

Roy had given her more numbers than she had wanted. One of them was for Fort Briggs in general, another was direct contact to Olivier herself, the other was for the Armstrong manor, and another was Major Miles' personal number. How Roy had got hold of these, Riza would never know. Anyway, why did he give her Miles' number? She had asked the Colonel that, and he simply said, "So you have a point of view of what Hell it is up there. Hopefully the Ishvalan will put you off."

Hawkeye knew Olivier was currently staying at the manor, but her fingers couldn't dial the number. Riza was incredibly timid, and to ring Miss Armstrong was too much. She was a scary woman, but Hawkeye really wanted to ring her. Urgh, why? Goddammit. She gritted her teeth and sighed.

Maybe Major Miles would be all right to talk to. Riza wasn't afraid of him, and they had got on well before. He was polite and kind towards her, so Hawkeye could trust him for advice. She sat herself onto the settee, Hayate joining her, and dialled the Major's number. There was a wait as Miles' transceiver struggled to receive good enough signal from a phone.

'Major Miles speaking.'

'Oh. . . Hi, it's Riza Hawkeye.'

'Hey. Is something wrong?'

Hawkeye drummed her fingers against the settee arm, and realised she was an idiot. There was nothing wrong. This was simply a silly phase she was going through. Once Olivier was in the North again, she would forget about her.

But the temptation couldn't be ignored.

'Is General Armstrong busy?'

'No, I don't think so. Do you want me to pass a message?'

'Miles,' Riza said. The Major seemed to detect the unprofessional tone now. This wasn't business. It was something personal, 'I have her number here – Mister Mustang gave it me – and. . . well, would she mind if I rung?'

She heard Miles chuckle, 'Gosh. The General usually isn't very keen to receive phone calls from anyone who doesn't have something to say business-wise. But don't trust what I say completely.'

'You do know her the best,' Riza reminded him, and received a laugh.

'That doesn't mean I know her inside and out. She might be more than happy to have a phone call from you. Anyway, the worst the General will do is tell you she simply won't talk. I wouldn't be too paranoid. If you are very keen, then give it a try.'

'Have you rung her before for personal reasons?'

Miles hesitated, 'Rarely, and there is a hint of professionalism behind it. She is currently in the Armstrong manor, so you're best calling her now whilst she's here. Do you have the number for the manor?'

'Yeah, thanks.'

'Would you like me to tell her you'll ring?'

'No, it's okay,' Riza replied, wondering if she should have Miles inform her. However it was too late as the Major said his farewell and hung up.

Hawkeye didn't ring straight away. She sat alone for a while, figuring out her thoughts. This sudden determination to get to know the General was peculiar. The only time Riza had wanted someone's number was Rebecca's, and there was only friendship behind that. Hawkeye sighed.

Now or never.

She dialled the Armstrong manor. She suddenly felt sick and clammy. Oh God, what would Armstrong say?

Riza was happy to have a polite young maid answer.

'Hi, it's Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Is General Olivier Armstrong available?'

'I'll just go and check. Please hold.'

Hawkeye sighed, attempting to calm her nerves. Twenty seconds passed, and she began to feel butterflies in her stomach. Strangely her mind felt at ease.

'Hawkeye?'

Oh gosh! Riza almost dropped the bloody phone.

'H-Hi,' she almost slapped herself for sounding so flustered.

'Is there something wrong, Lieutenant? You don't ring me.'

Hawkeye smiled. Olivier wasn't angry. Then that question started to dig into her silly head. Nothing was wrong.

"I want to talk to you," didn't sound very. . . well, good. Olivier wasn't the type to make happy chitchat.

'Sorry.' Her apology was rather pathetic.

'Sorry?'

There was a pause, and then both snorted by the awkward conversation.

'Sorry, um. . .' Riza sighed. She should stop apologising already! 'Uh. . .' make up something quick, 'You know, I knew what I was going to say, and then forgot,' as soon as she said that, she remembered who she was talking to. No, this wasn't a friend who would laugh it off. This was Olivier.

'Oh. How did you get this number?'

'Mustang.' Why did she suddenly feel upset? Because the conversation was so pathetic?

'. . . How on earth did he have this number?'

Then a glint of hope shone. Riza grinned, 'Apparently he also has your personal number.'

'What? That asshole. I do wonder what influences you to work for him, y'know.'

'We're friends, so I guess you could say that is what influences me.'

Olivier didn't respond straight away, which sent Riza down another hole of shame. This woman was incredibly hard to talk to, and also really unpredictable.

Riza felt the nerve to say "I like you". Yes, she did like her. Oh shit. As a friend, right?

'. . . Hawkeye, I don't really have the time to make conversation–'

'No, no. Sorry, I appreciate that,' Riza panicked, and her voice betrayed her.

'What's wrong, Lieutenant? You sound nervous.'

Her earthy eyes glanced down towards her hands, and she noticed she was shaking violently. Tears began to sting her eyes, and she tightly closed her mouth. Fuck. She couldn't speak. If she spoke, she would burst into tears. But why? She knew why. Riza was confused and scared. About this swelling feeling. She shouldn't feel disappointed that Armstrong had no time to make conversation with her.

'Lieutenant?'

'Riza,' she choked, covering her mouth.

'What?' a softness was added to her tone now. She had heard her voice crack. Softness? Olivier would never go soft for someone who cried before her.

'Call me Riza, please. . .' Fuck, '. . . I mean, when we're not working, you know?'

'. . . Are you crying?'

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Riza should hang up now. Her hands shook.

'No,' and then she laughed. How could she lie like that? She was obviously crying!

'. . . Do you need some company?'

Yes. Yes! 'That'd be nice, but–'

'I guess you're still a little shaken by the previous events then,' it wasn't a question. Riza wanted her to keep talking. Her voice was strangely soothing, 'You should try getting some sleep. I'm sure that bastard of a Colonel will comfort you.'

Bastard of a Colonel. She managed to cheer Riza up a little. But she didn't want to go to sleep. It then hit Riza she wanted Olivier.

She wasn't a homosexual. She fancied boys, right? So why did she feel so strongly towards this woman? Riza was crying again, but in silence. Tears poured from her eyes. Her heart thudded heavily. She felt. . . so puzzled. So confused. It hurt tremendously.

'You still there?'

'Yeah,' Riza whispered, but wasn't able to cover her emotions.

'You're tired, Lieutenant.'

'Are you busy?' Riza managed to choke out. There was a wait.

'Sort of. But. . . I guess the work can wait for a moment.'

Riza clenched hold of the phone wire, 'Can you see me?'

'Now?'

'If that's okay, ma'am, I. . .'

'I suppose. Where shall we meet?'

'Just. . .' a flow of relief swept through her, '. . . By the fountain.'

* * *

Hawkeye had waited for over ten minutes, and she began to wonder if the General would ever show up. She tightened her coat around her firmer and began to feel paranoid. Did Olivier take the whole conversation as a joke? Riza hadn't been joking at all. She chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the time. It was nearing eleven o' clock in the evening. Had she rung too late? Wait, did Olivier get the impression she wanted to meet her tomorrow?

Someone passed her and she jumped. Her heart fell to the floor when she noticed it wasn't Olivier.

'Hey.'

Riza whipped her head around to the feminine voice and smiled. Smiled? To Olivier? Her eyes widened a little when the General returned a small one back. Hawkeye found it incredibly strange to see Olivier not wearing military uniform. She was now dressed in a white blouse, but still wearing the same military trousers. So she hadn't completely changed, but the lack of top was most alien. Her expression no longer held that emotionless, steely one. In replacement was a calm and collected woman, who looked as if she really wanted to go to bed. Riza felt a tad guilty.

'Here.'

Hawkeye raised her eyebrows, and took the flask from the General.

'It's warm milk. I find it helps me calm down.'

'Thanks, ma'am.'

Olivier sat beside her and remained there for a while. Riza finally settled, enjoying the flow of water whisper into her ears, and to have the General so close. It had started to grow dark, but they were both able to see each other with the street lamps that glowed luminously with the moon. Riza took a sip of the milk and smiled, wondering what Edward's expression would be if he was to witness her drinking milk – warm.

A few minutes swept past. Hawkeye noticed Olivier was watching her and their eyes met. Olivier's bright eyes seemed to shine in the lack of light.

'Feeling better now, Lieutenant? Sorry, um, Riza?'

Riza blushed, remembering her previous conversation. She turned away, 'Sorry about that.'

'I don't mind,' her voice was still hard, but seemed to have loosened a little, 'Anyway, I quite like this place in the dark.'

'Do you prefer it in the North?'

'Hm. Yes.'

Riza smiled by her convincing and short answer. She didn't drink much of the warm liquid.

Olivier stood to her feet and turned to face her, 'I have to go now.'

Hawkeye felt like crying again. She gritted her teeth and stood to her feet as well, 'What time are you going tomorrow?'

'Early. Five-ish. Why?'

Riza curled her lips to stop her lower lip from trembling, 'I think I'll miss you.'

Armstrong frowned and glanced away. She thought for a moment, gazing towards the ground. Her eyes met hers, and she gestured Riza to come forward. Hawkeye obeyed, and spotted the curiosity in Armstrong's eyes again.

Olivier twitched a smile, carefully took hold of Riza's collar and kissed her lips gently.

Hawkeye was shaking violently now, unable to breathe. Something told her it shouldn't, but this felt amazing. Her lack of confidence pushed her down though, and she wasn't sure how to react. Should she kiss her back? Should she hold her?

Damn it.

Olivier was kissing her!

Riza didn't want her to pull away when she did. The Lieutenant's lips tingled. Her clamminess returned.

'You're very cute.'

For a moment, Hawkeye thought Olivier was someone else, but it was definitely her. She couldn't think. Cute? Olivier thought she was cute?

'Good night,' and the General swivelled on her heel and began to depart.

'Olivier,' Riza whispered quietly, then raised her voice, 'Olivier!' She nearly tripped over her own boots, 'Don't go, don't go, don't go,' she chanted silently to herself. She had never felt this way towards anyone. Admittedly, Riza had started to grow some feelings towards Roy Mustang, but this was on a horribly different level.

Armstrong didn't stop. She raised her hand slightly, a gesture of a wave.

She didn't want Riza to follow her. Hawkeye stopped and a tight ball formed in her throat. She watched as the lady General vanished from sight before bursting into tears. Finally. She wept bitterly, wishing - wanting Olivier to stay. Riza couldn't hold back the tears. She continued to cry in the same spot for minutes. How could Olivier leave her like this?

Riza sniffed and finally calmed. No, it was fine. This wasn't a final good bye. She would see her again. She only lived in the North, not exactly the other side of the world. It felt like it though. The moment Olivier left her side, she felt cold and all alone. Why did she have this power over her?

It took the puzzled Lieutenant ten minutes to return back to her apartment. She collapsed onto her bed and allowed stray tears to melt into the pillows. Hayate noticed her fractured emotions, and snuggled against her.

Riza then realised she still had Olivier's flask. She bit her lip.

Yes. There was an excuse to call now.


End file.
